


Bravery is an Accident

by ThirthFloor



Series: Some Adventures - Nonlinear or So [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier protects Geralt, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirthFloor/pseuds/ThirthFloor
Summary: Geralt gets overpowered on a job against a boggart, and Jaskier panics just enough to kill the beast himself. Jaskier expects gratitude, and surprisingly gets it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Some Adventures - Nonlinear or So [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711828
Comments: 15
Kudos: 400





	Bravery is an Accident

“Geralt - Geralt don’t go off the fucking path!” Jaskier complained, concerned as he peered around at the fog in the trees. The bog reeked of death and rot and all the disgusting things a bog could reek of, and the solid dirt path wound until it disappeared past the willows and moss. “You said this thing _lured_ people into the swamp, and now you’re - hey, Geralt??”

“I’m right here, Bard.” The responding gravelly voice came distorted, warping and reverberating from all sides. Chills ran down Jaskier’s spine, and he looked around, standing on his tiptoes as if that would help him locate the Witcher. 

Likewise, the Bard hated how his own voice sounded distant in the disturbing acoustics of the swamp itself. “Where is ‘right here’, Geralt? I know you’re absolute shit with words but - help me out, please.”

“Here.”

At the word, Jaskier yelped in surprise, staggering forward and whipping around. He faced the source of the voice, this time firm and surely placed along with the broad, black-clad figure it belonged to. Geralt’s eyes were still bright and golden, piercing as he gave a sardonic smirk at his companion’s reaction. The Bard scowled in return, sticking his tongue out spitefully and childishly as the Witcher pushed past him to keep walking.

“You know, if you’re going to bring me on a job, you shouldn’t be traumatising me like that! I’m in the way enough as it is…” Jaskier straightened his posture and adjusted his lute, tossing his fluffy brown hair with a huff. 

Disinterested and once again peering intently at the shadows in the trees and the wispy curls of mist, Geralt still managed to retort, “I didn’t say you had to come, I just told you we were leaving town… You followed me into the swamp.”

“It was _implied_ that I would be coming with you, since we are _friends_ , travelling cohorts, a Witcher and his Bard! Like peas in a pod, we are, Geralt.” Jaskier stumbled on a root and shouted lightly, the noise ringing and sounding far off again. There was the crack of something snapping nearby, but he ignored it in favour of making a face at Geralt’s turned back.

“I hate peas.” Geralt grumbled, drawing his sword when suspicious rustling of a nearby willow caused his eyes to blacken. 

“Why, you-” Jaskier began, affronted, but when he saw the darkening and dilation of the Witcher’s eyes, he knew better to shut up. For a moment. “What is it?”

“Shut up, Jaskier. You’re echoing.”

“Well what did you - Oh, you’re gone again… ” The Bard allowed his arms to fall defeatedly at his sides, although they quickly rose again for his hands to wrap around the leather strap of his lute. It was a self-comforting gesture, counteracting his nervous glances at everything that moved. “Should I just stay here, then?”

He looked about, blue eyes wary in search of a threat he knew he could not fend off alone. It was a sickening feeling, one he often got when left defenceless by the Witcher. And while he could often search for the man’s snowy white hair, it was a lost cause in these twisting, haunted swirls of smoky fog.

“Geralt?”

Nothing from the tresses of shrubbery and boggy… things.

“Geralt? Hello? If you’re abandoning me, this isn’t funny.”

…

“I don’t have separation anxiety, you know! I am _perfectly_ comfortable being alone, as much as you jest and jibe about it.”

After no response yet again, the Bard scoffed, a bitter sound in attempt to alleviate the growing pit in his stomach. Roach nudged past and clopped on a few feet before turning her head side to side, shaking her mane and seeming to search for the Witcher as well. Something felt utterly twisted and wrong about this whole matter, but Geralt wasn’t one to fuck up. 

_ Was he? _ Jaskier had privately told himself that he would love to see the day the brooding fighter slipped up, but he was regretting those wishes now. Vulnerability from any extraordinarily handsome man was nice, but this was… well, _not_. Dying was not sexy. And leaving the Bard to die alone in a putrid swamp along with a horse was also not ideal. 

As if reading his thoughts, Roach snorted and stamped her hooves. Jaskier nodded in agreement, “Yeah, this is bad. He’s being very un-sexy. We need sexy Geralt, don’t we, girl? Can’t have a dead Witcher, songs about that won’t get any coin...” Not looking, Jaskier held his hand forward to pat the mare as his blue eyes scanned the silhouettes of any number of nasty things in the marsh. All that he got in response was a bite on the fingers. 

As if on cue, Jaskier jerked his targeted hand back with a hiss as a violent cry burst forth from the depths of the swamp. Not even the trickery of the bog could mask the location of the roar’s volume, nor the fact that it was definitely Geralt who had cried out.

The Bard looked at the horse, then to the marsh. His heart pounded and his breath grew shallow, but the weight of his pulse seemed to lurch him off the path without thinking. Tossing his lute behind him with only the fleeting hope that it would fall near Roach, he shoved his way through sticky bushes and tripped through sloshing mud. The willows around him whispered hauntingly, brushing against his arms and pulling at his legs. Jaskier felt no longer in control of his own body, stumbling into a sprint through the slippery bog. 

Finally, he burst through to a clearing around a lake, the water murky and filthy. The Witcher was before him, wrestling with a looming beast, troll-like in its features but lanky and dexterous in its movements. Its horrendous, spindly hands were nearly twice the size of its head with claws sharp enough to cut armour. Those long fingers suddenly forced themselves around Geralt’s neck, pinning him to the ground with strength that forced the air from his lungs and the sword to clatter at his side. 

“Geralt!!” Jaskier watched in horror, the syllables ripping from his throat before he could stop them. Geralt heard his cry and tried to look over, writhing and struggling, slipping in the mud beneath the creature. 

Unable to turn his head, he swatted at the air with a hand that he could be using to free himself. With breath he could be saving to fight, instead he gasped out a command. “Jaskier - _go!_ ”

Jaskier stared, frozen in panic, in fear and alarm at the sudden onslaught of adrenaline burning like fire in his veins. He dove forward into the sludge, the hilt of the sword sliding a little in his grip, heavier than he imagined. Jaskier scrambled to lift it with two hands. He skidded on his feet, fumbling for balance, but finally stood to face the beast. Its back was to him, monstrous hands still throttling Geralt in the mud.

_ All he had to do was swing, yes? _ Well, with immense effort, Jaskier took a chance and swung the massive sword. It slashed across the creature’s back, eliciting a horrifying howl as the thing slammed Geralt into the ground one last time and turned to face the Bard. It gnashed it’s broken teeth like chunks of glass, growling low in its throat as it glared him down. Jaskier glanced at the Witcher, watching him gasping for breath, and scrambled backwards along the mudbank.

The creature followed, pounding the ground with its gigantic hands, before racing after the Bard. Geralt felt its presence abandon him as air rushed into his lungs. He coughed and blinked the darkness from his eyes, senses scattered and blood rushing in his ears. The ground continued to rumble with the movements of the beast, and as Geralt rolled on his side and pushed himself up, another shuddering cry burst forth from the creature. Panting, he shoved hair back from his face, seeing the beast on a rise of the mudbank over on the deeper end of the pool. It fought and squirmed, wrestling with some source of unseen agony before tumbling over the side and into the murky water. Bubbles rose to the surface and erupted the glassy surface, but soon dissipated as the creature sank to the bottom. Geralt allowed himself a moment to relax, a sigh to ease the tension in his shoulders, before he was suddenly back on edge with a growl. 

_ Jaskier had been there too _ . It had been _Jaskier_ who picked up the sword, hadn’t it? 

Geralt suddenly scrambled to his feet, rushing towards the rise and peering into the water. Just when he prepared to dive in after moments of condemning silence, an eruption of splashes on the nearby bank drew his attention. The muddy, drenched figure of Jaskier flailed forth from the bog, slipping and falling as he did. Geralt leapt down from the higher end of the bank as an easily ignored weight lifted from his chest, and firmly grasped the back of the Bard’s jacket to drag him from the water. Jaskier slapped Geralt’s heavy broadsword down beside him as he coughed and retched to get the filthy bog water from his lungs in favour of precious air.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed, Jaskier!” the Witcher growled lowly, pounding the Bard on the back a little harder than necessary to keep him from choking.

“I couldn’t just - gyuh - stuh-” Jaskier coughed and hit his own stomach, turning to sit in the mud and lay back on the ground. His chest rose and fell rapidly with his breaths, shirt torn open beneath his jacket. He seemed unharmed, but Geralt’s darkened eyes lingered nonetheless. “I couldn’t just stand there and let you get your arse kicked by a bog monster! Geralt, you’ve got your reputation to uphold…”

“It was a boggart.”

“What?”

“The beast, it was a boggart.”

“Oh, repulsive. _Anyways_ , as I was saying, _you’re welcome_.” Jaskier huffed and sat up finally, wincing. He shifted to look at a colourful red gash on his upper arm. “Oh… that’s not good.”

Geralt cursed quietly and grabbed his arm. “It’s not too deep, but make sure to clean it when we get to the inn. Also, you smell like shit.”

Jaskier gasped, then hissed when Geralt moved his arm. “You do too, we’re in a fucking swamp!” He watched as the Witcher carefully prodded at the tender skin around his wound, checking for signs of infection or severity. His blue eyes followed Geralt’s hands before shifting to look at his face, previously blackened eyes now back to their striking gold. “But, alright. We should be heading to the inn, then.”

The Witcher pulled the Bard to his feet – a bit rougher than he intended to – and Jaskier was about to protest when he buckled under the weight of a heavy cloak. Geralt fastened the clasp and drew the fabric about his shoulders with little but a glance before returning his sword to its sheath. White hair drifting as he silently turned, he trekked off into the underbrush back towards where Roach would be awaiting them on the path.

Jaskier could not fight the heat flushing to his cheeks even as he shivered from the cold water. He made sure Geralt’s back was to him before nuzzling his nose into the warm fabric of the cloak and taking a soft whiff, smiling as he recognized the familiar smell of the Witcher himself. He trotted off to walk alongside him, rambling in surprise the whole way back. 

_ He did it. _ _Jaskier_ killed a monster, took up the Witcher’s blade and – by accident or not – finished the job. He couldn’t believe it.

_ He _ , a Bard, protected _Geralt,_ a Witcher. _That_ was what he couldn’t believe.

~

Geralt pointedly avoided looking at Jaskier’s now naked chest as he tied the bandage around his forearm. A few sneaked glances revealed that he was freckled, toned, and otherwise unharmed from the incident with the boggart. So now, the Witcher focused intently on cautiously inspecting the tender skin on the edges of the white wrappings, searching for any signs of inflammation or irritation. The Bard smelled of the fresh soap from his bath, clean linens and an overwhelming sense of _pride_. It was exciting, infectious, and it took all that Geralt could concentrate into furrowing his brow not to slip a smile.

Jaskier’s eyes – too blue, too pure and distracting – watched his every move, each prod of his fingers and flick of his expression. He spoke only to break the silence, a smile dancing on his lips as he did so. “I killed a monster, Geralt. I did _your_ job.”

“Shut up, you helped.” Geralt grunted in response, pulling away and sitting back in his chair. He looked over the Bard standing before him before his gaze rose to meet those baby blues. “Nothing more, but nothing less.”

The mischievous smirk on his face suggested otherwise, and Geralt almost glanced away to avoid the feeling it stirred in his chest. “I think I deserve a bit of thanks, wouldn’t you agree?”

With a roll of eyes, Geralt stood and crossed the small room, removing his own jacket and boots. “The fact that you’re still breathing should be thanks enough in and of itself. But…” He paused, reflecting on the eagerness in Jaskier’s demeanour. “You did well.”

“Hm, so _eloquent_ ,” Jaskier chuckled sarcastically as he waltzed up behind the Witcher. “Please, enthrall me with more of your lavish poetry. Sing me praises of my endeavors, Geralt of Rivia.” 

“That’s your job, Bard. I’m a man of action, not words.” The Witcher only huffed, turning back to face him. Piercing gold met their rival blue, and Geralt shifted when he saw a new determination in those eyes. He squared his shoulders, tilting his head with an inquiring raise of a brow just as the Bard put his hands on his hips in a defiant stance.

“Then do it by action.” There was definitely more meaning behind those words, and the way Jaskier looked up at him through those long, dark lashes spoke for itself. It was not the first time conversation had ventured dangerously into this realm, but Jaskier hadn’t grown on Geralt _nearly_ as much back then. Now though, it was an entirely different story. “Poetry may be expressed through more than rhymes, you know.”

Unexpected heat rose to the surface of the Witcher’s skin, undetectable but alarming his senses all the same. He suppressed the impulse and sufficed for a glare. “No.”

“But I want you to.”

“You need to be less greedy, then.”

“Geralt.”

“You know I don’t care for greedy humans.”

The Bard scoffed, an incredulous laugh bubbling up. “You only tack on ‘humans’, because you want it just as much as me. Can’t call me greedy if you’ve thought about it too.” He softened then, hands falling from his sides and hesitating, trembling slightly even as they rose to Geralt’s shoulders. “We can’t keep dancing around this. I thought asking you to say something would make… _something_ come up.”

“I’ve always been more a man of action, and I would think you knew me better at this point.” Geralt stared into the Bard’s eyes with intensity. His gaze was guarded, but not lacking insight; he was hesitant, conceding but electing not to indulge Jaskier’s teasing.

Instead, Jaskier grasped the front of his shirt, his own blue eyes burning like the core of a flame. He wanted _answers_. He had set out to get what he wanted; and the Witcher hated to admit that he may achieve that goal this time around. “Then _why_ haven’t you taken action with me, Geralt?”

Geralt stiffened, raising an eyebrow at the Bard. “I’m not sure if you know what you are asking for, Jaskier.”

“I do. You asked me before if I wanted to stay, and I _do_.” Jaskier lessened his grip, looking away with a soft _tsk_. “I know what you are, and that doesn’t bother me. I _want_ all that you are. Gradually, long-lasting, until I’m through. I know you’ll live long after me but… grant me this, please?”

“And if I say no?”

“Then we’ll forget this conversation ever happened, you’ll be left to your brooding and I’ll be left to my pining.”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then I’m going to kiss you.”

Geralt was caught off-guard, exhaling softly and moving to catch the Bard’s eye. He was expecting conviction, he was expecting complaining and teasing, but the decision still came a halting shock. He knew not how to respond until the word already left his lips. “Alright.”

“Huh?” Jaskier seemed just as surprised, eyes widening and standing straighter, stiff and unprepared.

A smirk tugged at Geralt’s lips. The very lips the Bard’s eyes flicked down to more than once. “Do it, then. You’ve proven your bravery once today.”

“That was sort of an accident.”

“Then do it by accident.”

Jaskier took a shaky breath, not breaking the contact of their gazes. He stared at the Witcher, and the Witcher stared back. It was a daring connection, challenging in its boldness and the apprehension on both ends. The Bard hesitated, then raised a hand to brush a strand of Geralt’s silvery white hair behind his ear. Golden eyes followed his own baby blues, and the Bard left his fingers on the Witcher’s cheek. 

The Witcher only nodded in assurance. “I won’t bite.”

Jaskier laughed. “Is that supposed to be a joke? My my, Geralt, what have I done to you?”

“You’ve annoyed the shit out of me, but also endeared yourself. Now hurry up.”

“Fair. I’ll shut up now.” With that, Jaskier rose to press a kiss to Geralt’s lips. His movement was soft, delicate and anxious, but out of shyness rather than genuine hesitation. Geralt sighed in compliance and assurance, hands going to the Bard’s narrow waist.

He took the lead when the Bard faltered, deepening their kiss with a tender motion uncharacteristic of the Witcher’s gruff demeanour, but not unpredicted. He had such control over every gesture and shift. He handled his Bard with care; and when the man pulled back to comment, the Witcher kissed him again. He would have dismissed it as an effort to shut him up, but both men knew better when they inevitably began to stumble back towards the bed.

It was only then that Jaskier, by now beneath Geralt on the mattress, finally managed to break away for air with a chuckle on his breath. They paused. The Bard was grinning from ear to ear, bright and precious. Geralt felt a new gush of protectiveness and warmth surge in his chest.

“I told you, I want to drag this out. And I am _exhausted_ from _protecting you_ today. Can we break to get some rest?” He asked sweetly and playfully, only laughing more in that lilting tone when Geralt groaned in protest. 

But the Witcher complied and rolled onto his side, getting himself and the Bard under the covers and drawing the smaller man close to him. “I thought you said it was an accident,” his voice rumbled in his chest, and Jaskier pressed his ear to it to revel in the sound and be soothed by the Witcher’s heartbeat.

“Yes, but bravery itself is an accident. You never know when it comes, it just does. Sometimes stronger than other times, too.” Jaskier yawned and cuddled close, still with his head resting on Geralt’s chest. “Now, let me sleep.”

“You’re the one still talking. Shut up, Bard.” A smile tugged at the Witcher’s lips nonetheless. He kept one arm wrapped protectively around his narrower frame, free hand going to stroke absently through dark brown hair.

Jaskier fell silent then, and soon the only utterances from him were slow, deep and even breaths. Geralt took longer to fall asleep, as usual, but it was with a peaceful meditation that he awaited slumber. He held his Bard in his arms, and wondered at the accidental courage that had brought them here.

It was a complicated matter, one he honestly didn’t feel like taking the time to decipher. Regardless of it all, though, with Jaskier at his side, surprises like this were expected. And he wasn’t complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write! I absolutely love these two... They are my babies!!!  
> Thank you so much for reading!! I respond to every comment!  
> I hope to continue writing for this fandom and maybe I'll get better at it - AHH!!!  
> And depending on my schedule, there may or may not be an AU coming up??? Who knows at this point.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe and staying clean!! We'll get through this together. If anyone needs to talk, catch up with me on Tumblr! @aegir-emblem.


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